


A Memory Like Ivy

by DrakkHammer



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Coffee Shop, Fluff, Love will find a way, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9235397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrakkHammer/pseuds/DrakkHammer
Summary: I will find you...in whatever time...in whatever universe...where ever I have to go...I will find you again, my love.This work is a gift and a tribute to the incomparable Dragonsquill whose writing I not only adore but whose story shattered a month's long writer's block. What follows below is a tribute to what I felt when I read Chapter 17 of30 KissesThank you, my friend. I love you more than you can know.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dragonsquill (dragonsquill)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonsquill/gifts).



 

 

_“I love you,” he whispered._

_The words coiled around my heart like ivy around a tree. They held me, strengthened me, and, like the ivy, would be impossible to kill. I knew that no matter what happened, nothing could separate us, not even death._

 

* * * * *

 

I went into the coffee shop on a whim. It was chilly out and I had forgotten my gloves. I’d spent a fair bit of time in the large chain bookstore and had a mind to walk the four blocks to The Black Cat, a new and used bookstore specializing in mysteries. I never knew what I’d find there and browsing the shelves was an excellent way to pass a blustery Saturday afternoon.

But after two blocks my fingers were numb because like an idiot I’d forgotten my gloves. Shoving my hands in my pockets was only partly effective as I still had a bag to hold. I was cursing my stupidity when I noticed that I was standing in front of a coffee shop I hadn’t noticed because I usually drove everywhere. With my car in the shop, I’d been forced to ride the bus and now to walk. I’d been complaining to myself about being a pedestrian but apparently there was at least one thing to recommend it – you slowed down and actually saw things you missed when trying to get safely through city traffic.

Middle Earth Brews, the ornate sign proclaimed, the carved vines making it look even quainter. I stopped and looked at the dark green door with a Welcome to Bagend doormat andthe golden words scripted above it: _Speak friend and enter._

I like Lord of the Rings as well as the next guy, so I decided to check it out and warm up my poor suffering fingers. Smiling to myself, I whispered, “Friend,” and opened the door, setting off the musical tinkle of a bell that apparently hung somewhere behind the counter.

The décor was less Middle-earth than I’d hoped, but the walls boasted nicely framed copies of the movie posters and a post just inside the door said I was only to enter on “party business.” The ivy wallpaper gave it a smidgen of a Rivendell feel but it definitely lacked Hobbits. There was only one other customer in it, an older woman who seemed engrossed in her book.

I made it halfway to the counter when _he_ stepped out of the back room. I froze in place without knowing why.

He was tall and lanky, a shock of unruly dark hair, that threw mahogany highlights where the sun struck it, was pulled back into a messy pony tail that rode low spilling half way down his back. He looked up at me with eyes that were the color of expensive chocolate, shaded by escaped strands of hair, and long lashes that blinked as he returned my stare.

“May I…help you?” he asked at last, breaking the silence between us.

His voice was rich, nearly baritone but not quite. It was oddly familiar and at that moment, all I desired was to hear him speak again.

“I…I’d like coffee,” I managed to get out, stammering like a nervous child.

He turned without asking me what size or how I wanted it. I looked at the ponytail and thought; _It’s longer than it used to be._ And then I wondered why I thought about his hair at all.

He turned and set the coffee on the counter. “One cream, no sugar.”

“How did you know?” My voice caught, the words coming out raspy.

He looked at me for a long moment, as if searching my face for a clue to a mystery without answers.

“I don’t know,” He shrugged as if his wild guess made no difference. “I just did.”

I could feel the color in my face rising. I glanced down at the counter and saw a tray of muffins.

“I’d like…”

“Cinnamon,” he finished for me.

I was so glad that I hadn’t picked up the coffee. I would have dropped it. As it was, I goggled at him and could actually feel my mouth open and close a couple of times before I could get a word out.

“Thanks,” I muttered, putting a ten on the counter. I managed to say, “Keep it,” picked up the muffin and the coffee, then practically ran to a table at the back.

I slid into the seat and slammed the mug onto the table before I dropped the damned thing. I was shaking so hard my teeth were rattling. The woman next to me looked over and glared. Maybe she thought I was having the DTs. I didn’t know what I was having, besides a nervous breakdown. I only knew that somehow the shit had hit the proverbial fan but I didn’t know where the shit came from or where the fan was.

When I could catch my breath, I grabbed the cup with both hands and chugged about half of it, burning my tongue but bringing me back to reality. This was all just a silly coincidence. That’s all. Just one of those things to ponder for a moment and then let go of so that it could slide into oblivion and I could stop fucking shaking.

I forced myself to take deep breaths and when I thought could trust my hands, I started on the muffin. It was delicious and I ended up wearing a goodly amount of crumbs because I was wrong about my hands and couldn’t convince them to stop trembling for any length of time. I tried to focus on the texture and the flavor of the muffins and the fact that I could feel my fingers again – anything not to look at or think of the brunet. I didn’t need to think of him at all.

I didn’t.

I really didn’t.

And suddenly he was there in front of me, having slid into the seat opposite me without my noticing.

“You cut your hair.” He gestured vaguely toward his own. “I liked the braids better.”

I shook my head, not daring to look up into those incredible eyes. “I’ve always worn it this length.” My voice didn’t even sound like my own.

He made a huffing sound, which made me look up. I froze and blurted, “And yours is longer.”

Why in the hell did I say that?

He nodded, and then looked at me, heavy brows pulling down to shade his eyes to ebony. He looked angry, but somehow I knew he wasn’t. “And you got taller.”

“So did you.” He had and was more slender…now… My brain wasn’t keeping up with my mouth.

I did the only sensible thing a man could do in the situation…I panicked.

I lurched to my feet and grabbed my bag. “I gotta go.”

He reached out and grabbed my wrist, his eyes boring into mine.

“Don’t leave me…not again.”

The touch of his hand burned into my skin and the memories came flooding back like flashes of lightening, illuminated in bursts that showed everything and nothing. A strobe of images poured over me, sending me crashing back down into my chair, nearly knocking it over the in the process. His strong grip held me and I leaned into it.

He was short and stocky, impossibly strong, muscles lying heavy across a hairy chest. His arms bulged with the muscle it took to pull a heavy bow. Bow? He liked apples in the autumn and berries in the summer. He could raid a bee tree and not get stung in his quest for honey. He swam like a rock but loved the water. He could kill and skin a rabbit in a blink but also brought back orphaned babies to raise. He was quick to anger; slow to forgive but never held a grudge. He laughed all the time, making my world bright with joy.

My world…

I looked up at him and he smiled.

“Do you remember me?”

I nodded.

“I think I remember.”

He stood and pulled me up with him, taking me into his arms. His eyes were twinkling but they were also burning, turning them from chocolate to whisky. And like whisky, I wanted to drink him down and never let go.

“Remember…” he whispered, bending so that his lips claimed mine.

The memories swirled around me. He held me tightly; kiss burning deep into my soul.

“I love you,” he whispered.

And I felt the words coil around my heart once more. They had never let me go. They never would.

“I love you too,” I replied.

“I’ll never let you go.” I breathed the words against his lips.

“You never did.”

The kiss deepened and I knew that I was going to spend the rest of my life right here in his arms, remembering and making new memories. Because that’s what you do when you’ve found your other half…again…

 

 

 


End file.
